


Bet you can't keep this secret

by KByrd



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:18:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KByrd/pseuds/KByrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a clever five plus one story where Steve's friends keep giving him dating advice (that he probably doesn't need), this is the story from Maria's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bet you can't keep this secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts).



 

It’s not what it looks like – or maybe it is, but only a little bit

 

1a.

Maria yawns, stretches, climbs off her tiny bed tucked into a cramped room no bigger than a closet. She ducks under the sloping ceiling and wanders down to the kitchen. To say that she’s bored would be the grandest understatement of all time.

There are six of them stuffed into a safe house meant for two, maybe three. For security reasons they can’t use their electronic devices, can’t touch email or surf the net.

Her internal to-do list grows longer every day she’s ‘off’ work.

Of course, she isn’t ‘off’ work, this is her actual job, but sitting around, waiting for that all-important phone call is driving her quietly mad.

She tiptoes downstairs. Due to the shortage of space, the team is rotating beds. There’s always someone up and awake ‘guarding’ even at night so there’s always someone trying to grab shut-eye even during the day.

Hence no raucous games even during the day.

She wanders into the kitchen where Sam appears to be cooking and Steve is doing some sort of puzzle, maybe a crossword.

"What's a six letter word for excite?" he asks the room in general.

"I dunno,” Sam grunts rather irritably.  “What letter does it start with?"  
   
"A," Steve replies, then pauses. "No, wait...uh, yeah, it definitely starts with A."  
   
"Try arouse," Maria suggests idly, her brain clearly grasping the first vaguely intellectual challenge she’s seen all week.

"Oh yeah, that's it." Steve glances up, smiles that shy, goofy smile he always gets around any attractive female. "Thanks, Maria."  
   
She returns the smile and the look. "Well, it's not every day I'm asked to arouse Captain America."  
   
"Um…" The tips of Steve's ears appear to be turning red. "I guess I'll, uh, ask you. If I need any more help getting aroused. I mean, um, help. With the crossword."  
   
Ah, he’s so cute, stammering and shy. She walks past him, acutely aware of Sam’s scrutiny.

Sam’s a good guy. Actually, a really great guy. He’s nice and smart and loyal and as red-blooded as they come. She can feel his eyes on her, probably focused on her ass so she lets her hips relax and puts a bit of wiggle into her walk. Always nice to be appreciated.

But she’s not interested in him. Even if she were, it would be career suicide.

That doesn’t stop her being curious about Steve. It would also be career suicide to hook up with the America’s National Icon, but it doesn’t stop her from eyeing him sideways through lashes. He’s gone back to his crossword, a slight furrow in his brow, looking like an overgrown school boy stuffed into a small chair in a kitchen that is impossibly tiny.

Apparently he hasn’t even noticed her.

That piques her interest if nothing else does, but she’s not going to do anything about it.

Not right now.

 

1b.

Days later, she’s walking along the path towards the big office building, her mind whirling with a mental list of things to accomplish first, and she’s distracted for a moment by the sight of Sam and Steve lounging on the grass. They’re wearing work-out clothes and Sam at least looks winded so Maria figures that they’re just back from a run.

“Hey,” Sam greets her with a lazy wave.

“Hey,” she smiles back.

Steve gives her a goofy grin. “Hey, Miz Hill, I mean Lieutenant Marr … Ma’am,” he stammers. “How are you this morning?”

Maria is amused.  

He clambers to his feet. “Can I um …?”

She wonders what he is proposing. Carry her bag? Escort her to her office?

Luckily her phone rings at that moment. She nods at the men as she reaches for the phone and out of the corner of her eye, she can see Sam facepalm.

Hmm.

 

It’s May on the phone.

“What are you doing up so early? Maria demands calculating the time on the West Coast.

“Being my usual scary self,” May answers laconically. “Don’t tell anyone but I generally take a nap in the afternoon so I can stay up late, get up early and generally give recruits the impression that I never sleep.”

“Diabolical,” Maria snorts.

May gets down to business. She needs Maria to run an identity scan on a kid May’s team just ran into. Maria asks some questions, takes notes of the details, her phone pressed to her ear as she walks swiftly through the halls of SHIELD.

She swipes her ID card three times and nods to several guards as she navigates the maze.

“I’ll have prelim results to you by Friday,” she promises. “If there are any red flags, it might take longer for confirmed details.”

May knows this already.

“I have a new assistant,” Maria complains. “Take me a while to break her in.”

“What else is new?” May says lightly. “You’re worse than Murphy Brown.”

“What?”

“TV show,” May reminds her. “Not that you watch that crap.”

“It was years ago,” Maria answers.

“Yeah, well I never watched it either,” May said, “but there was some kind of theme of her driving her secretaries away. I think she had a new one every couple of episodes.”

“Do you think Tony would create a secretary robot if I asked nicely?” Maria wonders.

She can hear May’s shiver from miles away.

Maria grins. “Imagine, 24-hour service.”

“Imagine, 24-hour surveillance,” May retorts.

 

Maria hangs up just as she gets to her own office. She swipes her ID card and the door slides open silently.

She eyes the blue-jeaned butt perched on top of her bookcase with disdain. Someone is kneeling on top of her bookcase, peering out the silly window.

Bam! She slams her fist into the wall and Hawkeye jumps and looks back over his shoulder at her.

“Oh hey!” he smiles cheerily, as innocent as can be despite the fact that he appears to have broken into her secure office.

Maria scowls.

He climbs down, brushing invisible dust off his jeans. “Just admiring the view,” he says lightly. “How come your office window is so high? You can’t even see out of it.”

“Place used to be a factory,” she snaps. “Refurbished into office buildings but some of us got windows seven feet off the floor.”

He grins; she scowls. “No,” she says pre-emptively. “Whatever it is that you want, no, just NO.”

He laughs, the lines in his face crinkling delightfully. “Good! Because I was just about to ask if you’d MIND …”

“No,” she says firmly.

He cocks his head, cupping one ear. “What was that?’

“Fuck off,” she mouths silently to him.

“Well,” he says lightly, his hands going to his belt buckle. “Not sure if it’s totally kosher what with you being my boss and all, but I’m game if you are.”

“Out!” she orders him, opening the door and pointing decisively. “Before I call in the shock troops and charge you with sexual harassment.”

“You asked me,” he laughs as he walks out, dropping an apple on the desk of one her assistants.

Maria checks in with her staff and discovers that Clint’s entrance to her office was less ninja-like than plain out sneaky – he’d convinced one of the newer assistants to let him in.

“Never again,” she says firmly. “Always contact me before letting someone in.”

 

Idly Maria wonders if the men at SHIELD spend half the time the women do in contemplating their degree of life satisfaction. She imagines going for coffee with Clint, who despite their recent run-in, is as good a friend as anyone she knows at SHIELD, and chatting to him about whether she should hook up with someone or seek the ‘right guy’ to settle with.

Oh dear God – she can’t imagine.

Clint is messy and disorganized and loyal to a fault. He flirts with anyone with boobs and pretends to eat a diet of exclusively junk food (while secretly munching down on salads in secret and working out regularly) and he can barely keep himself in so-called ‘acceptable’ clothes.

Maria cannot imagine him as a responsible husband/father. She can’t quite figure out how he keeps his ‘pizza dog’ alive although she suspects that the dog is more responsible for his own survival than Clint. The last time Clint went on a long trip, Maria used to see the pizza dog mooching around headquarters. He somehow managed to leave the building to do his business and yet get back in without the ubiquitous swipe cards. He kept himself nourished by begging in the cafeteria and he slept many an afternoon away on some bigwig’s leather couch. Maria was never sure if he had been left with anyone in particular or if Clint had just dropped him off and assumed that he’d fend for himself.

No, a conversation with Clint is never going to resolve the ‘what am I doing with my life’ questions that Maria sometimes wonders.

 

2.

One of the best things about working for SHIELD is the state-of-the-art work out facilities, both inside and outside the building. And because the job requires a certain degree of physicality, no-one ever gives anyone the gears over wanting to go work out. Maria takes advantage of that. She schedules workouts into her day and she excuses herself form meetings that she doesn’t want to attend with the excuse that she’s meeting someone for a run.

It might not be entirely 100% responsible of her, but she figures that SHIELD owes her.

It’s Natasha herself who texts her with a cryptic message about a late night workout.

Maria sighs and groans and stretches out her back. She’s been stuck in her New York office all day – literally, it’s past most people’s bedtimes and she’s still in her office, skimming analysis reports and keeping in touch with agents in Singapore who have found themselves in a tight spot.

He phone buzzes again. The agent in charge in Singapore is saying that all is under control.

She grabs her workout bag, flips off the lights in her office and heads down to the gym.

She is not entirely surprised to find that the only two people left in the gym are Natasha and Steve. They are apparently sparring – for all her sharp edges and quirks, Natasha loves to teach and Steve is one of her favourite students.

Maria watches them idly until they break apart and reach for their water bottles.

Maria knows from personal experience that he’s quite fascinated by modern clothing and today’s she’s wearing a tight tank top and her thinnest, clingiest pair of yoga pants. Her hair is messy, but pinned up.

She can feel his eyes on her as she saunters by.

"Romanov, Rogers," she says as she walks past, throwing a small smile Steve's way.  
   
"Ma'am," Steve replies, polite as always. But his look definitely lingers. "Enjoy your workout."  
   
"Today, I really need the exercise," Maria agrees tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Nothing beats good, old-fashioned sweat, am I right?"  
   
She’s being cruel, she knows. Poor Steve just never knows what to say to the … err dames of SHIELD.  
   
"I, uh, I guess you are. Right about that. Getting sweaty, I mean," he says, then winces. "I, um, enjoy your workout...sorry, I think I already said that."  
   
"Yeah, okay, I'll catch you later, Steve," Maria grins, amused at his school-boy adoration. Damn, but he’s good for the ego.  
   
She heads over to the other side of the gym where the punching bags are set up and starts to warm up.  
   
She doesn’t need to see or hear anything to know that Natasha is giving him a bad time – she knows Nat well.  
   
Much later, just as she’s thinking of finishing up, she spots Steve, lounging against the wall, arms crossed.  
   
“Hey,” she greets him.  
   
“You think you’re so funny,” he smiles at her.  
   
“Is Nat gone?”  
   
“Had a date,” he confirms. “Showered, dressed and left.”  
   
“So it’s just us?” Maria  asks.  
   
Steve smiles.  
   
 

Several days later …

Natasha calls to tell her that she has tickets for tonight’s game … and she’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Maria sighs. “Who’s playing?”

“Pittsburgh.”

Ah, two teams led by Russian stars. No wonder Natasha is keen.

The tickets are only 200-level, but Maria is happy enough. She buys herself a hamburger and a beer and settles down. She’s never liked watching hockey from the boxes – too much distraction, too far away to see well.

Natasha is munching on nachos and sipping her beer. Hockey is in her blood and she’s never happier than watching a game live. She has binoculars that look like opera glasses – maybe they are opera glasses – and she watches the players swirling around the ice.

Maria is a Rangers fan, but it’s still fun to watch Washington play Pittsburgh.

“Geno looks good,” she comments, buttering Natasha up. They speak Russian to each other as is their habit. Partly it’s to limit eavesdropping, but mostly it’s so Maria can maintain her language skills.

“Hmm,” Natasha agrees. “He’s pretty much playing on the first line tonight.”

“I always liked him better than Sid,” Maria says idly.

Natasha snorts. She’s too honest a fan to trash talk the Canadian star, but there’s no doubt who she prefers.

It’s a fun game. The teams are both highly skilled, with nimble skaters and sharp-shooting stars. Maria cheers along with the home crowd when the Cap’s Russian star steals the puck at centre ice, barrels through one defender and bears down on the goalie. The second defenseman makes a desperate play, but leaves his own man open. Ovie slips him the puck and the Caps are up by one.

Natasha hisses in annoyance.

Her own favourite, another Russian star makes a fancy play, dipsy-doodling the puck between his feet and flipping it over the defenseman’s stick to a teammate. Unfortunately his teammate bobbles the puck and fails to score.

“Reminds me of Steve,” Natasha scowls.

“How so?” Maria asks.

“No game, no finish.”

“Hmm.”

“You know you’re going to have to make the first move, right?”

Maria frowns. “Who said I was going to …”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“Bad career move,” Maria says defensively.

“Rules are for other people,” Natasha shrugs. “You like him, go for it.”

Maria snorts.

“If you don’t like him, quit flirting.”

“Me?” Maria exclaims in surprise.

Natasha grins and steals one of Maria’s fries. “Or at least walking by him, you practically give him conniptions.”

“He’s not as innocent as you think,” Maria insists.

The crowd hisses as a visiting player lays an open-ice hit on a young up-and-coming star, leaving him dazed and groggy as he staggers back to the bench.

“Welcome to the big boy league,” Natasha grunts unsympathetically.

The home team’s goon is on the ice, skating around looking menacing; the visitors look unimpressed. No-one is bothering to engage and the culprit, the player who laid the big hit has conveniently left the ice to address an ‘equipment’ issue.

Maria wishes she dared ask Natasha about her relationship with Clint. Clearly they are close. They cuddle, hold hands, kiss, tousle each other’s hair and have pet names for each other.  She suspects that they sleep together or have slept together, but they are not exclusive.

Clint wanders around flirting shamelessly and trying terrible pick-up lines that have no business working, as yet, if locker room rumours are true, he has a long list of ex-girlfriends who remain on good terms with him.

And Natasha, well Natasha is predatory in her approach to sex (forget about love). She’s watching the Penguins star Russian player through her opera glasses and Maria would bet dollars to doughnuts that there will be some fireworks tonight no matter whether he has a girlfriend or a wife.

Poor soul, really doesn’t stand a chance.

 

3.

Bucky Barnes is the worst kind of flirt.

Not worst in that he doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, but a terrible guy to say ‘no’ to because he’s so damn charming.

Maria’s been under cover with him for over a month and she can’t help but enjoy their time together. Barnes likes women. He learns about their likes and dislikes and he does small thoughtful things like buying them coffee just the way they like it.

Holding doors for them.

Pulling out chairs for them to sit on.

Helping them put on coats.

Carrying heavy items without being asked.

Maria smiles as he holds her jacket for her. It’s churlish to refuse, but it seems ridiculously old fashioned. If he didn’t flirt shamelessly with every woman he meets (the barista at Starbucks, the bank teller, every waitress in every restaurant, the SHIELD analyst, the taxi driver ….), Maria would maybe consider reciprocating, but it’s pretty clear that his flirting and winking and holding of doors is a habit, not an indication of interest.

Still, she enjoys his company. And his witty banter. And the fact that he’s ridiculously good at his job. She’s always admired competence.

He rests a hand gently on the back of her neck as they wait for the quinjet to arrive. “Hear anything?” she asks idly, trying to act as if being touched is a normal thing for her.

“Not yet.”

She taps her earpiece. “Clint’s saying that their ETA is less than 5 minutes.”

“Good.”

She nods.

“Can I ask you something a bit personal?” Barnes asks.

“Hmm,” she smiles. “But, I’m not gonna guarantee an answer.”

He grins. “You and uh Steve?”

“What?”

He shrugs and makes a face. “Look, I know he’s not the smoothest, well, actually he’s crap with women, but I kinda got a vibe with you and him, and I’d like to know …?”

Maria laughs incredulously.

“Sorry!” Barnes puts his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “My instincts are usually good!”

They’re distracted for a moment by the hum of the quinjet. It appears as a spot in the sky and quickly approaches, growing to a spaceship-shaped object skimming over the trees.

“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t stepping on any toes,” Barnes murmurs, leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“How very chivalrous of you,” she says, a smile ghosting on her lips.

The jet hovers; Barnes waves the flag. The jet settles gracefully on the grass.

“If you are, you know, interested in Steve, you might have to make the first move,” Barnes says casually. “I mean he’s kind of, despite what he looks like, he still thinks of himself as that scrawny dweeb from Brooklyn and he’s not, you know, all that confident and all.”

“Not at all like you?” Maria teases.

He huffs. “I been trying to teach him, but he’s kind of unteachable.”

“Thanks,” she says sarcastically. “Were you thinking of setting us up?”

“God no,” Barnes insists firmly.

The door in the jet opens and Steve himself jumps out and jogs towards them.

“Not a word,” Maria says out of the side of her mouth.

“Scout’s honor,” Barnes grins.

Steve approaches, his face fierce, his eyes blazing. “You both alright?” he barks.

“Fine, just fine,” Barnes says as he shoulders his bag. He reaches for Maria’s bag as a matter of course, but she bats his hands away.

“I got it,” she assures him.

She does not miss the fierce look that Steve gives Barnes.

Steve barely looks at her and she tells herself not to take it personally. He’s focused on Barnes, giving him a clear, but wordless once over.

Barnes claps him lightly on the shoulder as he walks by. “I’m fine,” he assures Steve lightly.

Maria follows them into the jet and checks in with Clint. He’s distracted, reading text on a screen on his dashboard. All the new jets have them and although Maria is reasonably sure that they don’t exist just for Clint’s benefit, they are interesting. The poor dude at headquarters appears to be drunk texting instructions in shorthand with heavily bandaged fingers and Clint is scowling in frustration as the text scrolls across his screen.

“Have the thunderbolts signed a new player?” Maria asks, deliberately misinterpreting the shorthand.

He huffs in amusement. “Think they’re warning me of thunderclouds to the east of us. Damn system hardly ever works. Dude in headquarters is using speech to text software, but he’s got a hell of an accent and the software isn’t Stark-quality.”

Barnes muscles into the cockpit past Maria. “Mind if I ah …?” he asks.

“Be my guest,” Clint grins at him.

Barnes settles into the co-pilot seat and pulls headphones over his ears.

Maria retreats to the back of the jet and finds Steve sprawled across a bench.

“Hey,” she greets him.

“Hey,” he answers. “You’re alright?”

“Sure,” she smiles. “I had Barnes taking care of me.”

Steve raises one eyebrow.

Maria smirks (just a little). “Clint and Barnes are flying. Think I’m going to take a little nap in my bunk.”

Steve smiles, just a little, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “We’ve got what, an hour and a half before we land?”

“Hmm …” she agrees in amusement.

 

4.

Sharon corners her as she’s leaving a meeting, blackberry in hand.

“Can I have a quick word?”

Maria nods and grunts. “Uh huh,” her eyes glued to the teeny tiny screen.

“In private,” Sharon hisses urgently.

Maria scowls and pulls Sharon into the boardroom she’s just vacated. “Why? What’s going on? Is it the Kenya situation?”

Sharon takes a deep breath. “No. It’s about you and um … Steve,” she admits nervously.

Maria raises one eyebrow (she’s been practising).

“Is there anything, like, between you?” Sharon asks nervously. “I mean, I hate to ask and all.”

“Why are you asking me?” Maria demands.

Sharon twirls her hair nervously. “He asked me on a date, kind of,” she admits.

“Really?”

“Well, no, I asked him,” Sharon admits. “But he agreed to a date and then I started wondering if I was misreading the hints and if I should check with you and all … and?”

Maria sighs. “I don’t know how these rumours started about me and him, but if he’s asking you out or agreeing to go out on dates with you ….”

“He’s taking me to the gun range,” Sharon interrupts.

“Oh how very romantic,” Maria resists the urge to roll her eyes.

Sharon grins, “after dinner of course.”

“Well, have fun,” Maria says lightly. “Want me to check in on you at the gun range?”

“Oh actually …”

“You can’t be serious!”

Sharon laughs.

Maria eyes her warily.

“It’s not really a date,” Sharon admits. “I mean I don’t think so. He just looked so sad so I took pity on him. And it’s not like he’s going to make any moves on me. Can you imagine?”

Maria grins. “Ok, but text me if things are moving well and you don’t want me to cramp your style.”

“Thanks.”

Maria taps the screen on her blackberry and sends a quick cryptic note.

 

5.

Maria likes running with Sam. He’s a great guy – funny, easy-going, confident, competent … and damn athletic.

They meet by arrangement at the gym, plot out a route and take off; they’re running too fast to be able to maintain their speed, but neither wants to slow down. Rule of thumb dictates that they should be able to continue a conversation while running, but Maria doesn’t dare try or she’ll out herself as barely keeping up.

And she’s pretty sure that Sam is in the same boat, but macho pride is keeping him from slowing down.

They race along a long shaded path not far from the Mall.

Sam shoulder checks and swears; Maria looks back, careful not to stumble and spots a lone figure running some distance behind them.

“Who is it?” she gasps.

Sam slows down, “Bastard,” he says, breathing heavily.

She slows down to match him; not wanting to stop in case she can’t get going again. “Say again?”

But her question is answered as the runner breezes by them faster than she could imagine.

“Morning,” he calls out cheerily.

Sam flashes a middle finger in the distance, but Steve, running light and easy is already at the end of the lane, about to turn out of sight.

“I hate running in the morning,” Sam hisses.

Maria laughs, pulling air desperately into her lungs.

“I’m about to collapse,” Sam admits, running at more reasonable pace.

Maria wants to mock him, run ahead for just a moment, but her legs are feeling wobbly. “We’ve got miles to go yet,” she gasps, “let’s slow down a bit.”

“Sure,” Sam grins. “And I dare you to trip the bastard when he comes around again.”

They settle into a steady rhythm, still not talking. They’re in the home stretch, jogging along one of DC’s infamous pools when they hear feet pounding behind them.

Without having to say anything, they separate, leaving a gap between them. Steve swoops behind them, aiming for the space between them and Maria sidesteps gracefully, trying to hip check him hockey style.

He yelps and leaps over her; Sam laughs. Maria scowls. Steve turns around and jogs backwards for a few minutes. He’s flushed, but not yet sweaty and barely breathing heavily despite his speed.

“You’re looking good,” he says, eyes on Maria.

“Don’t trip over that tin can,” she answers.

He looks behind, dodges the garbage on the ground and does a clumsy kind of pirouette before settling into his running stride once again. In moment, he’s out of sight.

“That fellow has it bad for you,” Sam laughs.

Maria rolls her eyes.

“Has he asked you out, yet?” Sam asks. “Never mind, I know the answer.”

Maria smirks and does not respond.

 

6.

Maria has work to do. She knows it. It’s piling up on her desk and metaphorically in her inbox. She always has work do it.

But it’s late, well past the time that normal people in normal jobs get to go home. To their normal lives.

And she’s starting to think that if she wants to be normal, maybe she has to start saying ‘no’ to work.

So she very deliberately turns off her computer. Her staff has left already although SHIELD headquarters continues to hum.

She drives directly to a brownstone near Dupont Circle and parks in an alley. She does not dare stop anywhere to grab a bite to eat.

She jogs briskly, but quietly up the back stairs and slips the key into the lock.

The apartment is dark, but not empty.

She walks through the kitchen into the dim living room.

“Steve?” she asks softly

There’s sudden flurry of action on the couch and muttered curses from two voices.

Then a thud.

“What the hell?” Maria asks.

She flips on the light.

And beholds Steve, shirtless, pants unbuttoned, lying on the floor where he was apparently unceremoniously dumped. He scrambles to his feet, grabbing at his pants, looking shocked and guilty as hell.

Maria looks at the couch and immediately regrets it. She claps her hands over her eyes. “Sorry! Sorry!” she exclaims as Barnes, naked on the couch as far as she can see, scrambles for a blanket to yank over himself.

“Maria!” Steve gasps.

“Oh shit,” she swears fiercely. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know! I didn’t call … Steve …” Maria turns around and walks out of Steve’s apartment via the kitchen and the back door.

Steve takes a moment presumably to fasten his pants, put on a shirt and find his shoes, then he dashes after her.

“Maria! Wait.” He grabs at her arm and then lets go and she turns around to face him.

“No,” she says firmly, heart pounding. “It’s me. I’m sorry. I should have called …”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Excuse me?”

He takes a deep breath, looking anxious.

Maria sighs. “Look Steve,” she says slowly, marshalling her thoughts. “It’s the 21st century. It’s not anything to be ashamed of. I shouldn’t have walked in like that. I just didn’t know.”

“No, no … it’s not.”

Barnes, apparently dressed, or at least wearing a shirt, leans out a window. “Yes it is!” he shouts.

Steve looks furious. “Shut up,” he snarls at Barnes.

Maria sighs, pinching her nose. “Steve …” she says. “Whatever we have … had … going on … clearly … Well, I don’t know.”

He reaches out to touch her arm tentatively.

“Maria, I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

“Does Barnes know about us?” Maria asks.

Steve wrinkles his nose and makes a non-committal shrug.

“Well, at least I won the bet,” she says lightly.

“He doesn’t work for SHIELD,” Steve counters.

“Those are some fine hairs you’re splitting,” Maria answers drily.

He grins. “I can never keep anything a secret from him.”

“I’m happy for you,” Maria says softly. “Really I am.”

“It doesn’t have to be over between us,” Steve suggests.

“Excuse me?”

“Um,” he ruffles his hand through his hair nervously. “I mean I like you. I like what we have … had?”

She blinks slowly in surprise. “But you like guys, men, Barnes … clearly.”

“Um, just Bucky,” he says quickly. “I’m not attracted to men in general, just Bucky. We’ve just always been … it’s always been us.”

“OK?” she asks carefully. “Where does that leave us?”

“Um, not sure,” he admits. “But I like you. I think you like me … maybe we can work something out?”

Maria considers.

“At least come inside,” he urges her gently.

 

 

Much later …

The shrill, insistent beeping of an alarm going off filters in through the fog of sleep. Maria lifts her head to look at the bedside clock and groans at the god-awful early hour. "Whosephoneizzat?"  
   
"Mine, sorry" Steve replies, quiet and apologetic. He sounds far too awake, the bastard. "There's a situation on Staten Island involving some stolen experimental HYDRA weapons. I gotta go."  
   
Maria gives one last, longing thought to her pillow and the man currently spooning her before tossing back the blankets. "Gimme two minutes," she says around a yawn. "And a cup of coffee wouldn't hurt."  
   
"Maria, you don't –"  
   
The arm around her waist falls off. "Both of you, shut it," Bucky grumbles, and rolls to his stomach. For emphasis, he pulls his pillow over his head.  
   
"Sorry," Steve tells him, then glances down at Maria. He's still shirtless, which is always a nice sight, but he's in his uniform pants and has his boots on. "You don't have to get up, I promise. It's a simple take down –"  
   
Bucky throws his pillow at Steve. "Jesus fuck, Rogers, either take her or you're getting me," he growls. "And if I have to get up, neither of you's getting laid or getting fed for a week."  
   
Steve and Maria exchange a rueful glance as Bucky makes a point of pulling the blankets up around himself and turning his back to them.  
   
"You heard the man," Maria says, fighting back a smile.  
   
"I guess I did," Steve replies, with a fond smile for Bucky that he transfers to her. "Commander Hill, would you like to join me on this op?"  
   
"Why Captain Rogers, I thought you'd never ask," she replies, with a flirtatious grin.  
   
"Guess I'll go make coffee, then."  
   
"You do that." Steve heads down the hallway, and Maria rolls over to press a kiss to Bucky's shoulder.  
   
"Thanks for the backup," she says.  
   
"Y'owe me," Bucky mumbles, then twists and pulls her down for a far more thorough goodbye.  
   
She can feel how flushed her face is when she pulls away, and almost wishes she hadn't insisted on accompanying Steve. Staying in bed with Barnes does sound like a far more attractive way to spend her morning. But then, she knows that the only reason he isn't getting up himself is because he trusts her to have Steve's back. And it's a trust she has no intention of ever breaking, especially not as long as it had taken her to earn it.  
   
"Try not to have too much fun without me, alright," Bucky says, voice still rough with sleep.  
   
"Wouldn't dream of it," she tells him with another kiss, then climbs out of the bed before she gives in to the temptation to linger.  
   
When she finally strides into the kitchen, fully dressed and buckling her gun holster, Steve pushes a full cup of coffee her way. "Here."  
   
"You really are a life saver." She scalds her tongue on her first long sip, but doesn't bite back the small moan of pleasure when the jolt of caffeine hits her system.  
   
"I think I'm jealous," Steve jokes, with a wry half-grin that shouldn't be nearly as attractive as it is.  
   
"Well, if it's a choice between you and coffee..." She lifts her shoulders, offers a rueful smile.  
   
"Yeah, I get it, you and Bucky both would throw me over for some dark-roasted Arabica beans."  
   
"Nah, I'd definitely hold out for at least a good Kona blend," she grins, and slides her free hand around the back of his neck as she pulls him to her. Steve's lips are soft, full, conform to hers perfectly, and he definitely knows what to do with them. That in itself had been a revelation the first time they'd gotten together, but she'd quickly found out that Steve has all kinds of skills, and is always only too happy to show them off.  
   
(She won't even mention Bucky's skills, except to say that she must have been a very, very good girl in another life to be so richly rewarded in this one.)  
   
She and Steve are both breathing a little heavy when the kiss finally ends. And she's very pleased to see that Steve's mouth is reddened and slightly bruised. Thoroughly debauched is such a good look for him. "Now go kiss Barnes goodbye and finish getting dressed," she says, and brings the coffee cup back up to her lips. "We roll out in five."  
   
"Yes, ma'am," Steve smiles, and hands over her gun before heading back down the hallway to the bedroom.  
   
   
Maria wonders how long they’ll be able to keep Natasha and Clint and Sam in the dark.

When you’re a spy, secrets are fun to keep just for the sake of keeping them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was harder than expected, not least because I really liked the original and am not sure I can do it justice. You might notice that I used dialogue directly from the original (which is a serious no-no in academics), but I hope will be forgiven here. My homework is to write my next few stories from the female character's POV.


End file.
